


Clichés are meant to be broken

by stjarna



Series: Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week (Sept. 12-18, 2016) [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week, Frustrated Jemma, Perthshire Cottage, Post-Season/Series 03, Random & Short, Random - Freeform, Silly, Tumblr: thefitzsimmonsnetwork, Writing prompt: Parallel, parallel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:24:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8049199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: When they’re about to move to their own place in Perthshire, Scotland, Simmons has a hard time accepting that in order for their new living situation to work, she’ll have to work on something she has struggled with for years.





	Clichés are meant to be broken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 5 (Favorite Fitzsimmons Episode || Writing Prompt: Parallel) of Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week Sept. 12-18, 2016 (organized by The Fitzsimmons Network)
> 
> This was the first thing that came to my mind when I thought about the "parallel" writing prompt, so I just rolled with it, despite its silliness.

“Ugggghhhh!” she grunts loudly; her frustration visible in every tense muscle in her body, every glaring stare on her face.

Almost aggressively, she turns the steering wheel and pulls forward, then turns the engine off.

“I’m done with this.” she growls and removes her hands from the steering wheel as if it had caught on fire, “Forget it!”

“You can’t give up now, Jemma,” he says softly, “It _will_ be part of the test.”

“Yes, I _know_ it will be part of the test. But it’s a _stupid_ test. I mean, just think about it. _You_ are a terrible, _terrible_ driver, and yet you _somehow_ passed the test. Whereas, I—who is perfectly capable of driving safely and responsibly—have failed the stupid test _twice_ because of parallel parking! It seems far too cliché: a woman who can’t parallel park…”

“My mum is an excellent parallel parker, actually?” he interjects and immediately regrets his words when her eyes send daggers his way.

“Parallel parking is something that can _easily_ be avoided!” she continues her rant, “I’m not going to _need_ parallel parking! And the stupid name itself: parallel parking. Just think about it. It’s illogical _and_ incorrect! As if anyone could _truly_ achieve parallelism with a presumed minimum of three cars. And even if they could, as soon as they turn the steering wheel to back into the spot, whatever parallelism there _may_ have been, just combusts into flames. Parallelism assumes that two things are equidistant and _remain_ equidistant, never touching. It’s a _complete_ misnomer!”

He takes his time to reply. Trying to choose his words wisely.

“First of all: ‘Ouch!’ and ‘Low blow’ for the terrible driver comment. And secondly: You do realize that you’ve reached a point where your argument against learning to parallel park boils down to _semantics_?”

She glares over at him, squints her eyes in anger and frustration.

“Why do I even bother? I’ve _never_ needed a driver’s license before!”

“Yes, well but our lovely Scottish cottage in the middle of nowhere that already has most of our stuff in it, requires us to have a mode of transportation _and_ the required permit to _use_ said mode of transportation.”

“ _You_ have a driver’s license!”

“You _just_ told me I’m a crappy driver a minute ago.”

“A crappy driver with a driver’s license nonetheless,” she offers in her defense, “I’ll drive with you.”

“What if I’m not there? Out of town? On mission?”

“I’ll just wait for you to return.”

“How very nineteenth-century female domesticity of you.”

She glowers at him, frustrated that he has a snappy answer against any of her far-fetched arguments.

“I can get a lift!” she counters, “May could pick me up. Or Mack. Take a quinjet.”

He sighs and carefully reaches for the back of her neck. She allows it and the gentle touch of him massaging her tense muscles makes her relax momentarily.

“Jemma, this was _your_ idea. Remember? _You_ said that finally getting your driver’s license was the logical and sensible choice considering the remote location of our new place.”

“Ugh!” she once again grunts, “This is ridiculous! _Why_ is this so hard? It _shouldn’t_ be so hard! I have _two_ Ph.Ds. in _highly_ advanced scientific fields. This basically boils down to mathematics and physics and the correlation between speed and distance and angles and…. I should be able to do this with my eyes closed!”

“Maybe you should try that!”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Do you _really_ think a driving instructor will let someone pass who attempts to parallel park with their eyes closed? Seriously Fitz!”

“Well, maybe not _while_ you’re actually parking, but what if you allowed yourself to observe your surroundings, take in distance and angles; take a virtual 3D scan so to speak. Then close your eyes to calculate your data, and then open your eyes and just… do it.”

She looks at him without saying a word. Exhales sharply. She observes the front, scans the back, checks her surroundings. Then she closes her eyes and breathes slowly. In. Out. In. Out. She opens her eyes and glances at Fitz before turning on the engine and shifting into reverse. Slowly she backs up, her eyes fixed on the speedometer. She begins turning the wheel and backs up further; slowly, she turns the wheel in the opposite direction. She carefully rolls back, back, back. Then she stops the car and exhales.

She looks straight ahead, then back, then at Fitz, questioningly. He opens the door halfway and peaks outside to check her distance from the curb.

He closes the door, turns to her and says, “Dr. Dr. Simmons, I believe you have just perfected the art of parallel parking. And this appears to be the perfect reminder that science can be applied to just about anything.”

A confident smile hushes over her face. She starts the engine again and starts pulling out of the parking spot.

“ _Finally!_ Oh, I’m _so_ going to be a better driver than you!”

 _Yes you will_ , he thinks and grins without saying a word in reply.


End file.
